


The Unfair Way to Play Tear'n'Chase

by sparklight



Category: Transformers (Dreamwave Generation One), Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirage has something to "show" Cliffjumper, and it apparently necessitates Mirage to be invisible while they play something similar to hide and go seek - or Mirage is just a jerk who can't keep his cloaking out of things it doesn't belong in. Like interfacing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unfair Way to Play Tear'n'Chase

'Off-days' wasn't something that could be counted on, not with Decepticons ready and willing to strike whenever and wherever they felt like, but it was still an attempted practise. Cliffjumper usually didn't much care for them, mostly because what was he supposed to _do_? It worked out okay when he and the other minibots had something planned, or just him and Bumblebee... Or when Mirage shared an off day with him.

Like today.

Except he _couldn't find the fragger_!

What was the point of a stupid note on a datapad left on the desk spelling out 'I have something to show you. Come find me.' in the most _infuriatingly_ teasing modifiers layered with undefined-but-definitely-sexual criticals? Especially when Mirage must be keeping himself invisible, and that just wasn't _fair_. Mirage had only recently started revealing the few things that could reveal if he was nearby and cloaked.

The keyword being 'nearby'.

Also usually included were the words 'carelessness' or 'allowed to notice' or 'mistake'. The only real thing one could actually trust to was the excess traces of Mirage's EM field which couldn't be completely hidden, and the change in the flow or pressure of air when he moved... Or being Soundwave, but that, Cliffjumper definitely wasn't. 

But, again and definitely, one needed to be _close_ for that to work, and if Mirage was that close to somebody while invisible?

He was most probably intending to be, for various results of 'not good' for the one he was close _to_. 

"Fraggin' cable-pullin', plate-pinching, glass-armoured, stiff-strutted _glitch_!" Stomping through the corridors of the Ark, Cliffjumper didn't care that people were very obviously picking up on his quiet snarling as he peered into the rooms he passed or down a corridor, knowing full well it was absolutely _futile_ unless Mirage decided to show himself.

He also didn't care that they'd know who he was muttering about, or the fact that Mirage might pick it up. If the slagger decided to play a game Cliffjumper could not win and hardly even participate in, he _deserved_ every single, stinging w--- 

"Augh!" The scrape and then twisting pinch on the tip of his horn scattered his thoughts as a lightning snap of charge rushed down from horn to the circuits around his spark chamber. Whirling around, hands tightened into fists, Cliffjumper saw...

Nothing.

Of course.

"Did you want something, Cliffjumper? Because if you wanted something that would be okay, I know I can pay attention to the surveillance feeds at the same time, it's no problem at all really and are you okay because you look kind of tense maybe you should see Ratchet---" Bluestreak asked from where he sat, partly twisted around in his chair so he could look at the minibot, optics wide and earnest. Cliffjumper bristled and shook his helm, optics briefly wandering over the screens he could see.

"No. Sorry." It was just as well that he interrupted, because otherwise he'd never be able to get away, especially as Bluestreak obviously _couldn't_ pay attention to him and the screens both. Pausing with a frown, Cliffjumper turned back and stopped the door from closing. "You ain't seen Mirage, have ya?"

This time, Bluestreak whirled around completely in the chair and Cliffjumper twitched. Would someone have to have a talk with him, _again_? And why the frag had Bluestreak gotten a surveillance shift, anyway?

"No, I haven't, but if you want to I can keep an optic on the screens and tell you when he shows up. You're both off-shift today, though, aren't you? Strange that he wouldn't tell you where he'd be, then, or is he invisible? Why would he be that and do you want me to tell Prowl he is since he's not precisely _supposed_ to be---"

" _Thanks_ , Bluestreak. Gotta go!" Cliffjumper only paid enough attention to shout his farewell and wave briefly, because he'd seen the quickest flicker of white and blue on one of those cameras. End of this corridor, where he came from. Running back down the corridor, he came to a sliding halt where it branched off in two, with the officer debriefing room right between those corridors.

Growling in annoyance, Cliffjumper had the mounting urge to just ignore this scrap and go take a drive because _why_ should he put up with Mirage feeling like _making fun of hi_ \---

"Gah! _Mirage_!" Whirling around, the thrown punch sailed through the air and met nothing, though it did feel like his curled knuckles had just barely brushed through the retreating edge of an EM field, but he couldn't be sure. The glitch had _licked his horn!_

How in the scum-oozing pit had he missed Mirage leaning over him? 

Well, he knew how. 

All it took was Mirage standing a step away and then bending down; their size difference and with how close and muted Mirage's field was while cloaked, if you weren't paying attention, you'd miss it. Especially when the first point of contact would be a relatively small area like Mirage's faceplates and the upper part of his helm... 

Friction jangled along the edge of his back kibble, a finger scraping down the upper line and when he jerked around this time, reaching instead of punching, there was a crackling slide under his fingers and a hot-air over hot ground effect in the “empty” space in front of him before Mirage slid away. 

Muttering swears, Cliffjumper realised he was facing one of the two corridors now, and took off running again, still not convinced he just shouldn't go take a ride. At least that'd scatter the building charge the fragger and his clever fingers was stirring up like a cheater. 

There was only an elevator at the end of this corridor though and Cliffjumper slowed down, wondering if he should backtrack. Frowning, he turned around slowly and ended up stumbling backwards into the elevator as he was pushed and a floor was chosen seemingly without assistance. 

"Fraggit, Mirage!" Cliffjumper literally leapt, and really, he shouldn't have expected the smaller space to somehow let him get a chance to _catch_ the glitch. Not when he was revved up and frustrated and disregarding what Mirage had taught him. 

So of course he met the wall beside the elevator controls face-first, but even as he was pushing off it a thigh was shoved between his legs, pressing up and in while Mirage's hands curled around his shoulders, pinning him. 

Or, well, at least that's what it _felt like_ , since, craning his neck, no matter how much his sensors insisted on there being pressure in the shape of hands on his shoulders, there was nothing to see. 

"Mirage, this is the _fragging lousiest_ game of tear'n'chase _ever_ \--!?" the snarl ended on a static squawk as Mirage shifted his thigh upwards and rubbed against the underside of Cliffjumper's pelvic armour at the same time as he locked his teeth around a horn and _dragged upwards_. 

::Patience. And if you'd actually _try_ to use what I've shown you, I wouldn't have to resort to such... base hints.:: While that was merely murmured across the comm. frequency, Mirage chuckled right around the upper edges of his left sensory horn, the sound as much noise and vibration as _pressure_ , running down along the thin metal. 

Then the doors slid open and the pressure was gone. Base hints his aft. 

Cliffjumper stumbled away from the wall, snarled and lunged out of the elevator, but all he got for _that_ was Jazz and Bumblebee turning to look at him on the way to the recreation areas. 

"... You okay, CJ?" Bumblebee's expression spoke of earnest concern and friendly confusion, and Cliffjumper huffed, waving his hands at them both. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, B." Letting air flow through his vents in measured, calm cycles, Cliffjumper managed to crack a lopsided grin even as he wanted to shift with the charge jittering down his circuits. All he wanted _now_ was to corner Mirage the first thing and make him stop being invisible and _finish what he started_. 

Answering Bumblebee's inquiring comm. ping with a slightly tense but otherwise agreeable response when he clearly didn't think Cliffjumper's first answer had been enough, Bumblebee reluctantly accepted that. Jazz and Bumblebee then went on their way, though Jazz threw a glance over his shoulder before they rounded the corner. 

::Try to keep a clear processor, and you might win, 'Jumper. Don't let him fluster ya.:: Jazz sounded distinctly _amused_ , and Cliffjumper bristled in the direction the two had disappeared in, sending Jazz the equivalent of a shove off/too late, and getting an absolutely infuriating laughing response back. 

The most annoying thing was that said response was understanding, and amounted to 'just enjoy the ride, then'. 

The frag he would! Or maybe he would, but Mirage was _torquing him off_ with this invisible game of tear'n'chase, especially as he seemed intent on feeling him up at the same time! 

It was _weird_ when Mirage did that, frag it all! 

::Mirage, I _swear_... What's even the _point_ of this? We _could_ be usin' today for somethin' else, ya know!:: Cliffjumper snapped over the comm as he eyed the turn in the corridor that'd lead to the part of the Ark that had been rebuilt into the recreation area, and Mirage better not be going there because if so he wasn't following. 

That part had a mess hall, oil bar a few rooms for gaming, watching either cybertronian holos or human entertainment and similar stuff - since the original rec areas had been located in the bow of the ship, and while they hadn't been completely crushed, it had simply been safer to abandon the forwards parts of the ship. 

It wasn't as if there wasn't space available to do relocations and abandoning parts like that; the Ark had been made for a crew of three hundred and they... weren't even a hundred. Or even fifty. 

::Relax, Cliffjumper. It's just a bit of fun.:: This time, there was nothing teasing in Mirage's words, but the fingers that scraped over the armour glass in his trunk nonetheless were. This time Cliffjumper _stood still_ for a moment though, folding his arms over his chestplates. He couldn't quite keep the mutinous, angry expression away, but he was going to try this _once_ at least. 

The fingers trailed upwards and along the side of his back kibble, a hand stroking his spoiler, fingers curled around it, and then skating upwards along the fender on his right side. Mirage's other hand slid around to grasp and then squeeze the thin upper edge of his back kibble, thumb flicking over the metal as his other hand slid closer to Cliffjumper's right shoulder, the suppressed EM field deliberately being flicked out in fast little licks against his own. 

Too fast to matter, but everything _was_ giving Cliffjumper an idea of what Mirage apparently wanted to do, even if standing here in the middle of the corridor wasn't what _he_ wanted to do. 

If he was right... Optics narrowing and resolutely ignoring the charge flickering along his circuits as well as his sensor net alive with light, buzzing friction, Cliffjumper whirled around on his right leg and reached out. His hand closed around Mirage's fingers, ¨but he lost the tentative grip as Mirage jerked back, laughter dancing over the comm. frequency in pleasantly low, thrumming tones. 

::Well, I'll be! _Almost_. If you can get a good grip on me before the last room, I'll let you decide what we'll do.:: Mirage tapped the back of his hand and even if he tried to jump forward, bristling at the implication, he got nothing. 

At least they were clearly going _away_ from the rec areas instead of _towards_ given the direction he was facing now, and that was _something_ at least. 

But despite his efforts, both spur-of-the-moment frustrated ones and standing still and trying to _pay attention_ when they were at intersections, Mirage kept out of reach. A 'good grip', after all, would imply something that Mirage couldn't instantly and easily slide out of by just yanking his hand back or take a step away. Nonetheless, Cliffjumper did end up sort of better at predicting where Mirage was standing when he came close as the little game went on. 

Listening for any faint, tinny clangs of Mirage putting his feet down were useless, but there was a faint vibration - which Cliffjumper couldn't pick up with his legs, but his sensory horns could. Of course, that meant upping the sensitivity, and Mirage had already been putting both hands and mouth all over them. All of this left Cliffjumper squirming as he stood at corners or intersections or doors, trying to determine where Mirage was exactly by those vibrations through his horns, while the pinches still vibrated down the thin metal and the faint traces of lubricant evaporated slowly from a licked stripe and the feeling of both his own and Mirage's EM fields like near physical _pressure_ \--- 

" _Mirage_!" Cliffjumper yelled, leaped, and got nothing, twitching as he automatically rubbed his squeezed horns and had to stop, swallowing noise. 

Fragger. 

Making him use his horns, which he mostly just used for altmode sensory pickup – which was why they could be extremely sensitive to work through the armour when his helm was tucked away in altmode - just to _maybe_ have a shot at catching the glitch. Stalking through the doorway he'd almost lunged through, Cliffjumper scowled. 

Forward bridge. 

Peering into the dim lighting in the room, Cliffjumper suppressed the shiver that wanted to slither down his frame and EM field both as pistons and cables twitched. Not from nervousness or fear; the bridges were hardly _dangerous_. But as the door swooshed closed behind him, the failing lightning that they hadn't bothered to repair made the room feel... off. 

Gritting his teeth, Cliffjumper then bared them at the feeling of being _watched_. His own EM field, spaced out wide just to get some sort of forward advance made his sensory horns itch, and sort of numb at the same time. But then, the sensor nodes were still buzzing from the blasted _squeezes_ from earlier, so using them now was nearly impossible, but he couldn't cut the sensitivity either; too charged up. 

Which was unfair and annoying and he was going to _kick the pervy glitch's aft_ when he got his hands on him. 

Stalking out from under the shadow of the main bridge that created part of the ceiling for the forward bridge, Cliffjumper briefly pressed his back up against a pillar and glanced around. The bridges were partly dilapidated; safe because the amount of rock pressing down wouldn't be moving, but there was no reason to necessarily repair them either unless the whole of the Ark was excavated and made flight-worthy again, since there were other places to collect to have meetings more comfortably. 

The lights that still worked turned on when there was somebody in either of the bridges, as the light worked anywhere in the Ark, but most of it was slagged up. The front end of both forward and main bridge was a mess of twisted metal, broken machinery and rocks. 

And still Mirage seemed to be out of reach. Scowl deepening at the faintly humming silence, Cliffjumper left his pillar and slid out into the open, turning in a slow circle. He was aware he'd technically lost since Mirage had said 'before' the last room, and while this was the only room they'd actually _entered_ , it wasn't hard to figure out. 

He was just going to play it as that if he could just get a good grip on Mirage, he'd insist he'd won. And then he was going to get the annoying, burst engine glitch all hot and bothered and then he'd fragging _leave_. 

Serve him right--- 

Cliffjumper realised he'd completely and thoroughly lost when he was suddenly pushed back a step or two and then hoisted up, a knee only barely shoved between his thighs again to keep him up and _fragging hell_. The fact that he couldn't see Mirage while being pinned against the pillar he'd earlier been leaning against, his feet dangling in the air, made him reflexively scrabble against the metal behind him to keep himself up. 

It didn't matter that his sensors could tell the exact shape of the thigh wedged between his, the rounded, pipe-style vents that were attached to the knee joint pressing up against the underside of his interface in a way that normally would be annoying but right now made him squirm. Or that he could tell the size of the hand splayed over his chestplates, thumb and smallest finger following the near-imperceptible seams that revealed where the plates that covered and protected his spark chamber were. 

It didn't matter, because he couldn't _see it_ , and Cliffjumper stared, slightly upwards where he'd assume Mirage's faceplates would be, and he would have snarled if his engine hadn't revved loud enough to _echo_. And not from anger. He hadn't expected that. 

"Okay, okay, you _win_ , are we _finished_ with this stupid game of invisible tear'n'chase now?" huffing, Cliffjumper glared at seemingly-empty air before he let out a static-fuzzy squawk-moan at the rubbing pinch to his left horn. It rang through him in a lazy, trembling vibration. "Mirage what the _frag_ \--gggh!" Fingers digging into the pitted but otherwise whole metal of the pillar behind him, to keep him there or just for the need to do _something_ he wasn't sure, Cliffjumper forcibly turned off his traitorous vocaliser as the same pinch-rub was repeated on the other horn. 

"Not _quite_ done, but thank you for conceding defeat." Mirage's lips slid over the metal on the front of his helm, the subdued EM field pushing in gentle insistence against Cliffjumper's twitchy one, tugged between arousal and being unsettled because he couldn't _see anything_. 

"Mirage, _drop the fraggin' cloak_ already! This is _weird_!" He couldn't convince his processor to move a hand to slap (or attempt to, anyway) Mirage's hands when they started sliding over his frame, just above the metal in long, sweeping arcs and strokes. 

"Shh. It's okay. I'm hardly going to let you fall, now am I?" The modifiers and criticals attached along the words carried an extra question and reinforcing of 'when have I _ever_?' but it wasn't as if Mirage had ever been _invisible_ before while pinning him against a wall or whatever else vertical surface. 

"Frag it---rrrr," Cliffjumper snapped, the growl thrumming along with his engine even while the barely-there strokes slid as much against his armour as his EM field, soothing along them both. He shifted and couldn't quite suppress the stuttering rev because _frag it all_ , Mirage had had him charged up for well over a cycle by now while leading him around the Ark. 

"Come now Cliffjumper." Mirage chuckled against the top of his helm, lips sliding slow and lazily against the metal, the vibration travelling along the upper layers outwards and then up and inwards into his horns. It set them ringing from the inside out as the overstimulated sensor nodes _hummed_ along with it, and Cliffjumper _whined_ , squirming once again against the thigh holding him up. 

But fragging pit. 

His optics kept trying to focus, to see more than the faint, rising-heat flicker in the air that was the only physical proof of Mirage's presence beside the touches that were registered, and his processor rebelled over the fact that the _visual_ didn't line up with the _tactile_. 

He could just offline his optics, but that had never been something Cliffjumper had been good at. He could deal with quite a few things in the name of interface (Mirage was good at convincing him) but cutting himself off from the forewarning visual information _should_ give him just wasn't one. 

At least not easily. 

"Here," murmured Mirage, this time against the angle where his left horn joined the helm while he slid one hand down Cliffjumper's right leg, tracing out the curves and dips in hip and knee joints as he tugged the leg up to wrap it - supposedly - around his waist. He then then did the same to the other, all the while murmuring indistinct glyphs that didn't need to be heard for the encouraging, reassuring thrum to be translated. 

It sort of made him want to _punch_ the slagger even while those clever hands slid along his armour, scraping vibration down into the lower levels of armour and circuitry, but not quite down to the protoform and chasing up charge that made it hard not to squirm. Cliffjumper twisted, hands pressed back against the pillar as that was the _only_ visible point of reference. 

Because seeing his legs just bent around _nothing_ , even if he was squeezing down just to be sure there was something there and _feeling_ the warm, angled resistance, with Mirage's engine purring right underneath, was just... 

"You're a _fraggin' glitch_ and kinky one as well, _what the slag_ Mirage! If ya don't---guh." His engine skipped, and then revved as Mirage's mouth closed around his right horn and those clever fingers, actually lightly charged, rubbed along the angles of his interface. He was still just seconds from demanding to be let down and stomp out, frame popping with charge or not, but... 

::Perhaps. Open up, my foul-mouthed little dearspark.:: Warm affection suffused both the glyphs as well as Mirage's EM field, but the modifiers attached brooked no argument, weren't teasing or _asking_. At the same time, Mirage locked his teeth around the horn he'd been lazily tonguing and _dragged upwards_ , static friction and vibration crackling along the surface as well as spearing inwards, making his whole sensor net _twang_. 

Cliffjumper froze, vocaliser stalling on empty even as the panels covering his interface slid aside. Mirage shifted his stance, humming around the horn and thoroughly distracting Cliffjumper from the fact that there was no, invisible or visible, thigh underneath him now. But really, that didn't matter and the mini was squirming most _delightfully_ against his frame and there was nothing to obscure that fact, every little twitch and arch easily seen as Mirage's invisible frame wasn't in the way. 

Mirage pressed close, trapping Cliffjumper's spike between the lower part of his chestplate and thus the nearly friction-less armour-glass of his windshield, and the bottom of Mirage's abdominal plates. It caught the spike between the slight dragging tension of resistant metal and the maddening slide against _no_ resistance. 

It was one of the reasons he liked having Cliffjumper up against a wall, the way it made him squirm. 

He should put his foot down - well, so to speak, anyway, what with both legs wrapped around Mirage's waist - really, he should. But the frame pressing against his was warm and eagerly humming, and despite the fact that he couldn't see anything, leaving him staring at the twisted mess of metal and rocks in the other end of the room, Mirage _was_ here. 

The fragger should've had another ability, because this cloaking slag just set his teeth on edge. Stopping now, however... He didn't _really_ want to do that. 

"Ya better not try to use that where people can _hear_ ," said Cliffjumper with a huff, tilting his helm into the hand cradling the side of his helm, rubbing the back of his foot along the back of Mirage's thigh. He wanted to touch more, but despite the weight against him, not keeping his hands against the pillar didn't feel safe. 

No, he didn't trust Mirage _quite_ that far. Not completely anyway. 

"And can y---"His vocaliser descended into static as Mirage laughed around the horn he still had in his mouth, the other getting a pinch and Cliffjumper ended up clutching at the pillar again and then arched his hips at the brush of charge against his grasping valve. 

Which, of course, meant the tip of Mirage's spike lost contact, and Mirage huffed, a warm wash of air that hit him in the face. 

:: _Patience_. And if you want me to hurry up, you shouldn't _move_ you know. _Stay still_.:: Gentle, but implacable, the hand Mirage had on his hip tightened with the words and this time when warm, slightly wet friction slid around his horn as Mirage licked it at the same time as he shifted his hips up and forwards, Cliffjumper managed to stay still. 

Charge trilling through him, snapping from his horns down along the workings of his valve and the trapped spike, excess spitting against the armour-glass, but stayed still. 

"Mirage..." The groan dragged out in a static-laced gasp as Mirage inched his spike in, keeping a grip on Cliffjumper's hip which meant that even an _attempt_ to push down and let gravity have its course didn't really work. It was slow, friction-tickling torture as the filaments, grooves, angles and caliphers in his valve and on Mirage's spike fitted together inch for inch and the glitch always had to be _slow_! 

The tip of the spike brushed up against the back of his valve, and Mirage had said to stay still but with the circuit that had slowly been coming alive, connections made one at a time, when it _closed_ with Mirage's spike pressing against the nodes hidden behind the immediate workings in the valve's walls... 

He squirmed. 

"What'd I say?" Mirage's field flexed against his, a quick, snapping surge and Cliffjumper grimaced, torn between the charge running like a live wire--- 

"Hey!" 

And then Mirage pulled back just the faintest, and despite that he _really_ wanted to move, defy that restricting but not impossibly firm grip on his hip, he stayed in place, glowering at... well, at a bunch of rocks and metal, which ought to have been Mirage's chestplates. 

"I ain't the one who decided they were gonna be fraggin' _invisible_ with no slaggin' warning!" Well, only a slight warning, but Cliffjumper didn't count that message from before he started looking for Mirage as a good warning. 

"And you've been doing rather well." Mirage admitted, pulling off Cliffjumper's horn with a pop, engine revving slightly at the feel of Cliffjumper's frame sort of _vibrating_ when he pulled away. Leaning back in, Cliffjumper had a warning first when Mirage's nasal ridge brushed his, and the protest was lost to their lips fitting together _and_ Mirage snapping his hips back up. 

Cliffjumper tightened like a coil, against and around Mirage, and when the spike was withdrawn, charge chasing along the workings and arcing to snap against those inside Cliffjumper's valve, one flailing hand let got of the pillar to clutch around Mirage's arm. 

Cliffjumper's optics focused again from staring up at the ceiling and glancing around, actually paying attention again, he felt his processor rebel at the sight of seemingly just _hanging in empty space_ \--- And then Mirage snapped his spike back in, nothing slow or subtle about it, and Cliffjumper moaned into the kiss. 

::Don't pay attention to it, Cliffjumper. I'll make it up to you.:: 

Cliffjumper's other hand stayed there it was, digging into the metal of the pillar, but the rest sort of curled around Mirage, and while the gesture was useless when Mirage was _invisible_ , hestill pulled away from the kiss and laid his other hand over Cliffjumper's optics. 

"Turn them off." 

Cliffjumper growled, and then jerked, valve working around Mirage's spike, and the glitch _better_ make it up to him despite the way the charge sang like a live thing through him, because he _was_ asking a lot. 

But then the bright blue of Cliffjumper's optics guttered out, it being a little easier when _urged to_ and like this... 

Like this it didn't matter that Mirage was invisible, because like this, the pressure and warmth of the frame above him, both hands at his hips now and Mirage's mouth brushing over the top of his helm, seemed real in a way it hadn't when he was trying to look for the noble. Something seemed to unwind as Cliffjumper finally _relaxed_ into it, and the lightning that had been held back flared as Mirage slid back in fully. 

"Gah--- Mirage---!" 

Said mech rolled his hips, and Cliffjumper twisted and arched, Mirage's hands on his hips not really holding him up as much as holding him in place and as such his own weight pushed him down, pressing everything down on the spike inside of him. 

"Let go." 

Gasping, Cliffjumper shook his helm and scrabbled against the metal of the pillar, trying to find purchase as he was thumped repeatedly back against it, thrumming, dull sounds echoing through the dim room. 

"Mirage..." He didn't _want to_ , and he had to grit his teeth to hold it all back and to not online his optics again. Mirage breathed something against his helm, that heavy, embracing field of his flared and pushed, enveloping Cliffjumper as much as his valve was grasping at Mirage's spike, and then Mirage licked up along the side of a horn and scraped his teeth against the flat top. 

Cliffjumper swallowed the whine, but couldn't... 

" _Let go_." 

The charge broke, white and hot and then Mirage slid in for a last time and the lightning snapped double, racing through his frame in an unforgiving rattle and he curled around Mirage as the overload bled out. 

When he brought his visual feel back online, he was still curled around Mirage... a decidedly _visible_ Mirage, who was now kneeling on the floor. 

"So, shall we go elsewhere and I'll make up it to you?" Mirage murmured into his audial, lilting and exactingly pronounced, and Cliffjumper huffed and _pushed_ , sending the noble crashing back against the floor. 

"No, you make it up to me _now_." 


End file.
